


endless epilogue

by prowlish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: "stargazing", Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Fingerfucking, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Stargazing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Fingering (Transformers), but with finger quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 04:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: Drift interrupts Megatron's alone time.





	endless epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay well. The holidays were really stressful. like REALLY stressful. so I wrote this little thing for myself to ring in 2019 while working on other projects that I... can't post yet. And apparently I get twitchy if I don't post for a while? so... yes. here.

The door hissed open to an unexpectedly dark bridge. Drift blinked as their optics adjusted. Soon enough, the familiar shapes of the  _ Lost Light _ ’s bridge came into focus — Megatron’s frame upon the captain’s chair included. Drift glanced around, then back at her. “Sitting in the dark?” they asked.

 

Megatron tilted her helm, lowering the glass in her hand from her lips as she gave them a contemplative look. If Drift knew Megatron, she was likely considering whether to kick them out instead of dealing with them. “Low light highlights the view,” she finally said, gesturing at the windows.

 

Evidently, Drift wasn’t being kicked out.

 

They smiled as they slipped closer — not to block her view, but to give her something more to see; she seemed to know what Drift was up to, but also didn’t take issue. There was a glint in her optics that betrayed the idea of a smile in the softening line of her mouth.

 

Drift put their hands on their hips, only a few paces away with a half dozen flirtatious lines floating around in their helm already and — they paused.  _ Their _ view wasn’t so bad either, with Megatron’s posture relaxed for once, lit by consoles and starlight, the ghost of a smile chasing her lips.

 

"Drift?" she said, sensing their hesitation.    
  
They smiled, the expression softened from their initial mischief. "Just appreciating the view," Drift replied.

 

Megatron’s optics glimmered even more as she offered a hand to them. Drift took the invitation, putting their hand in hers and following when she tugged them forward. The drink in her other hand she put down in favor of pulling Drift astride her lap. Drift let their engine purr, that flirtatious curl upon their lips again.

 

Megatron, however, studied their frame as though they were the only thing in the universe. One large hand braced their lower back, while another explored the line of their waist, the flat chestplate covering their quickening spark, the curve of their cheek and the red accents trailing up to their optics. Drift sighed; such attentions could soothe their amorous bent entirely, if not for the hint of desire underpinning Megatron’s field.

 

And yet she spoke instead of touching them more intimately than two hands on their narrow waist. “I missed this.”

 

Drift laughed, though not mockingly. “We’ve done nothing but this since before our quantum trick,” they replied.

 

Megatron smiled. “Yes, but… we still haven’t made up for all the time apart. I had several more centuries to endure, you know.”

 

“So you keep reminding me.”

 

“It’s the truth!”

 

Drift smirked. “So stop talking about it and kiss me.”

 

The pretend brattiness worked. Megatron lifted her hands to grasp their helm and tugged them into a gentle kiss. Triumph sang through their field as they poured themself into the kiss. Drift wrapped their arms around her, pulling their frames flush. It was like pouring liquid heat into them both. Megatron’s seeking kiss turned hungry, her hands trailing back down the curves and angles of their frame, desire sparking between the curl of their fields.

 

Megatron seemed only to break their kiss so that she could press several more to Drift’s jaw and down their neck. After a few moments of that, they began to squirm — and it was only then that Megatron paused.

 

Drift panted as they peered up into her pensive optics, barely gleaning her own flicker of mischief. “Yes?” they said, breathless. Their optics lingered on her lips, clearly wanting to eliminate the distance between them again.

 

Megatron hummed. “I thought we were here for the view,” she said.

 

Exasperated, Drift came very close to popping their panels and  _ really _ giving Megatron a view, but their huffing amounted to nothing — in the next moment, Megatron grasped Drift’s frame again and turned them in her lap so that they both faced the observation windows.

 

“Megatron,” Drift gasped softly. They squirmed, though not far with her arm securely around their waist.

 

“Were you always this wriggly?” she murmured against their audio.

 

Drift let out a snort. “I used to be  _ worse _ .”

 

Megatron chuckled, inspiring a shiver down Drift’s backstruts. “Oh, right.” But before Drift could level any other complaints, she teased her broad hand down their frame to rest on the already warm panel between Drift’s legs.

 

Drift took in a shuddering breath, arching their frame into the touch. Megatron nipped teasingly at their neck, but it wasn’t a distraction for their panel folding back or Megatron’s fingertips tracing a delicate line around their valve. The ability she had to make feather-like touches with such strong hands never ceased to amaze Drift. Her other hand slipped up Drift’s frame, tipping their chin up so that Megatron could capture them in another kiss. Drift was sure they could be forgiven for how messy they made it, considering Megatron chose that moment to press her fingers into their valve.

 

The kiss seemed to last a small eternity, but when they parted again, Drift noted with amusement how they were both truly positioned to enjoy the view of the galaxy beyond the ship this way. They had no guise of stargazing anymore, but the star-dotted darkness beyond the observation windows was soothing to the optics, even though theirs were out of focus as Megatron thrust her fingers in their valve. Drift could feel her smile against their helm. “Looking at the stars?” she said, amused.

 

Drift laughed breathlessly, rocking their hips with her every touch. “One of us has to.”

 

Megatron hummed. “I was, before you came along.” Despite this apparent chastisement, Drift could feel the heat and pressure of Megatron’s spike extending.

 

The speedster snorted. “You’d be  _ so _ bored without me.”

 

Megatron grunted, ignoring them in favor of shifting Drift’s hips in order to line their equipment up. Drift licked their lips, field and frame taut with anticipation. She dragged the head of her spike through the slick folds of Drift’s valve, pulling a moan from their lips. The desire in her field deepened, a low rumble escaping her chassis as she tugged on Drift’s hips and sank into them.

 

Drift quivered against her, wanting to move faster but transfixed by the calm, steady hand Megatron had even now. Their valve quivered around her, opening in the slow increments that Megatron granted, and no arch of the back or squirm of the hips would rush her. All they could do was murmur her name and let their unfocused gaze watch the stars go by.

 

And yet, once she had their arrays flush — she paused. Drift let out a labored sigh, plating twitching, about to demand  _ something _ when they felt her hands slip back up to their chestplate. Drift swallowed, feeling an odd pulse in their spark.

 

“May I?” she murmured.

 

Drift wasn’t in the habit of showing their spark, even to their most precious lover. And yet, upon considering, they found they didn’t care to deny this to either of them. Not during their small eternity, this final coda in a new universe.

 

Instead of trying to conjure any words, Drift let the hidden seams part and opened the chamber to Megatron’s careful attention.

 

Their own spark lit up the bridge brighter, casting the familiar surroundings in a surreal, flickering light. Drift let out a shuddering vent, arching and then writhing because every movement provoked a quiver from their full valve. With Megatron’s gentle fingertips edging in to touch their spark casing, Drift felt thoroughly overwhelmed.

 

“Brighter than the brightest star,” she murmured against Drift’s audio.

 

Drift shivered. “More poetry?” they teased.

 

Megatron hummed. “How many more stanzas can I write in your honor, lover?” It was both a tease and a reference that Drift knew very well. Megatron began to rock their hips together slowly, her large fingers as delicate upon their sparkcasing as they had been when teasing their valve. It didn’t matter that Drift could barely focus on the actual words Megatron whispered against their audio; the soft purr of her voice was soothing and the poem was one of many they knew by memory for millions of years.

 

Drift made several almost piteous sounds, optics offline as they willingly drowned in Megatron’s presence — her voice, the hand softly touching their spark, her sweet and heavy field, and the rhythm of her spike deep within them.

 

They breathed out her name, feeling like their joints would burst under the charge cresting in their frame. The intensity was too much to contain; if Drift had kept their optics onlined, they would see the fitful pulses of their spark, illuminating the bridge with each surge of pleasure. Drift wasn't conscious of any sounds they made, but they must have made some — Megatron had stopped murmuring lines of poetry and now made a soft hushing sound into their audial.

 

Overload swept them up like a wave, wringing a last sobbing cry from their vocals. Drift didn’t black out, but their awareness felt dim and faraway in the aftermath of such a powerful release. Slowly, their senses filtered back in; a shiver as the aftershocks of their climaxes sparked through their fields, the whirr of their vents, the slide of their plating together as Megatron carefully parted their equipment. The slide of their combined fluids in Drift’s over-sensitive valve prompted another shiver, which Megatron soothed with a gentle hand as she turned Drift around again to hold them close to her chassis.

 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

 

Drift stirred, letting out a lazy hum. “Hm?”

 

Megatron leaned down to kiss the top of Drift’s helm. “For indulging my request.”

 

Finally, they lifted their helm, smiling large and loose in the way they usually did after an overload or two. “Next time, I play with your spark,” they replied.

 

Megatron smiled, tracing her fingertips over Drift’s helm. “It’s a deal.”

 

With another hum, Drift settled back against her chestplate and let themself be lulled by the gentle pulse of her spark and field.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u to squid for suggesting sparkplay for this... chef's kiss


End file.
